


truth be told I never was yours

by katewonder



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Character Study, Cheating, Drinking to Cope, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Mary is the best character in this thing, Minor Character Death, Shitty people doing shitty things, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-14 07:06:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13002474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katewonder/pseuds/katewonder
Summary: snapshots of an affair (1996-2016)





	1. 1996

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vassalady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vassalady/gifts).



 

There was something about college towns. 

The general atmosphere was just something entirely different from reality, like stepping into a liminal space somewhere between being a kid and being an adult, and honestly that pretty much was college in a nutshell. The feeling that you could be anything you wanted to be -even though the odds were that all those frat boys would end up unhappily married stockbrokers, who would then go on to reminisce about college as the good old days where they could be free from responsibility, where they were kings. 

Robert had wanted to go to college once, before he’d knocked up his highschool sweetheart and had to get a job to support them because that was what real men did. Well, real men apparently also got left by their wives and daughters. Not that Marilyn had ‘left’ him but they were definitely ‘taking a break’ or whatever she had shouted at him before he had grabbed his jacket and keys and hightailed it out of there, if anything just to not have to listen to his daughter cry more. So here he was upstate in some shitty dive bar in a college town drinking shitty beer and trying to work out what the fuck he was going to do next. 

The bar was quiet, though it was about one p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. There were some girls by the window eating lunch and one singular handsome blond frat boy look-alike that he had been sneakily watching for over an hour now. The kid was working on some kind of essay, textbook propped up in front of him as he wrote in a notebook, occasionally sipping at the margarita that the bartender had given him. It was his second one since Robert had gotten in. He must have had a pretty good fake, or the bartender mustn't have given a single fuck, because there was no way he was twenty-one. 

The kid must have noticed Robert looking at him because he looked up and over, smiled a dazzling smile and went back to his essay. Three shots later and Robert was sick of looking at the side of his face. He signalled the bartender for another round of shots and then slid across the bar to sit next to the kid. 

“Hey,” Robert said, because he was terrible at pickup lines, and honestly what was the fucking point? Either someone thought you were good enough to fuck or they didn’t, pick up lines and ice breakers and pointless conversation were a waste of time. 

“Hey,” said the guy, finishing his margarita and looking up at him. “My roommate isn’t around if you want to go back to my room?”

And wasn’t that the most forward thing to ever be said to him in a while. He threw back a shot, and then another one, and slid the third to the kid who threw it back like it was nothing but water. “Sure, why the fuck not,” Robert said, and that was how he met Joseph Christiansen. 

~*~

Honestly, Robert had been expecting the kid to live in some kind of awful frat house. Some huge monstrosity held together with privilege and awful boys, so it was somewhat surprising when he was led to a small apartment complex on the edge of campus. 

“I’m on the third floor,” the kid said, the first thing that he’d said since they walked out of the bar. “Sorry about all the stairs.”

“It’s fine,” Robert said, and the stairs explained somewhat why he had an ass that would not quit. You could have bounced a quarter off it. He followed the kid  up the stairs and then waited for him to unlock his front door and usher him inside. The apartment was clean, silent. Not at all like the sort of place Robert would have imagined a college boy living in. Well, at least not the apartment that he would have had as a college boy.

“I’m Joseph,” the blond said, taking his shoes off and putting them next to the front door. Robert followed him inside, took his shoes off and then wished he’d worn better socks when he’d left the house that morning. “By the way.”

“Robert,” he said, and buried down the urge to stick his hand out for the kid to shake. They were past that now, surely. You don’t follow a guy home from a bar and then shake his hand. 

“Nice to meet you,” Joseph said, and reached around Robert to push the front door closed and then shoved him into it. Robert’s back hit the wood with a thump. Then Joseph was on him, leaning across the gap to kiss him. Forward, Robert could appreciate that. Though, he already knew the kid was forward. This is what he’d come back here for, after all. 

“Your place is nice,” Robert said, as they broke apart for air. 

“Who cares,” Joseph said, fisting his hand into Robert’s hair, pulling in a way that nice boys that looked like Joseph shouldn’t do. He  leant in to kiss him again, dragging his lips over Joseph’s jaw, soft lips catching on his two day old stubble. It was so nice kissing someone who wasn’t angry at him, someone new, someone different. 

~*~

“What brings you here?” Joseph asked, in the quiet moment after they’d both came  **a** nd Robert was wondering if he should get up to check to see whether the scratch marks on his back were bleeding or not. “To this small sleepy town midweek? College boys get you hot?” 

“Something like that,” Robert said, even though it was nothing like that. 

Joseph caught one of Robert’s hands in his own, stroked his long fingers over his wedding ring, smiled to himself in a way Robert couldn’t even begin to read. “You’re married?” he asked. “Am I going to be your dirty little secret?” 

“She threw me out,” Robert said, but maybe she hadn’t. She’d told him to get out, but he hadn’t really thought that she wanted him to go. Maybe he should have stayed but it was too late now. Here he was hours away from his family in some college kid’s bed. “She’ll probably take me back next week.” She would, definitely. The second he ended up back on his doorstep he’d be dragged in and they would fight and fuck and fight again and things would go back to normal. Normal enough for them, at least. 

“What did you do?” Joseph asked, rolling onto his side to look at Robert more clearly. He felt like he was being inspected, like maybe Joseph wouldn’t like what he saw and would throw him out. 

“Nothing. It just builds up sometimes,” Robert said. “One day you might be married and you’ll understand exactly what I mean.”

“Hm,” Joseph said, like he didn’t believe things like adulthood would ever happen to him.  _ Good luck, kid _ , Robert thought. Maybe his life would be better than his own.  

“So, what are you studying?” Robert asked, changing the subject. It felt like the right thing to do. He should have just left. Left the second everything was done and not stayed in bed to talk to some college kid about life. 

“Theology,” Joseph said. “With a minor in business.”

“Theology?” Robert asked. “Like… the bible?” Pretty much the most surprising thing he’d heard, let alone from someone who had ridden his dick like he was born for it less than an hour ago.

“Exactly,” Joseph said, smiling. “I’m hoping to become a pastor one day. Give back to the community. When I finish up here I’m going to Seminary school to get my Masters. Maybe a youth work degree. Haven’t really decided yet.”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Robert said. He’d been expecting corporate lawyer, or maybe investment banker that ended up starting up some pyramid scheme that made him millions but ended with him in prison anyway. General things that boys that looked like Joseph grew up to be.  

“I suppose it’s not really a career path you hear from many people,” Joseph said, shrugging. 

“No,” Robert said. 

“What do you do for work?” Joseph asked. 

“Mostly just whatever I can find,” Robert said. “Some construction. Sometimes delivering things.”

“Is that what you wanted to do?” Joseph asked.

“Sometimes you don’t really get a say,” Robert said with a shrug. “You just gotta do whatever you can do to survive.” 

~*~

The shower was not big enough for the both of them but they got in together anyway, Joseph pressed against his front, pressing kisses into his skin, hand lazily stroking at Robert’s dick. “We’re not gonna get clean like this,” Robert said, not making any effort to move. The whole shower thing had been Joseph’s idea, he’d said something about how Robert couldn’t go home smelling like sex, how his shower was a great size, how he’d happily help Robert wash his hair, and who was Robert to say no to all of that?

“Mm, we will eventually,” Joseph said. His hair was plastered to his face, and Robert reached up to push it away from his eyes, leant in to kiss him properly. 

Robert should have left. He should have left the second they were done. He shouldn’t have stayed to chat with this kid, shouldn’t have gotten into this shower. He shouldn’t have even gone home with him, but that was a mistake that felt like it needed to happen. Inevitable, even, from the moment he’d seen Joseph sitting at that bar. 

“Stop thinking,” Joseph said, words brushing against his lips. “None of it matters.” 

“Well shit,” Robert said, pinning Joseph to the wall, careful not to hit arms or other appendages into anything. “I guess if none of it matters.”

Joseph laughed, his long fingers still curled around Robert’s dick. 

Once they were clean, Joseph helped Robert find his clothes and then walked him back to the front door. He l leant up and kissed him, one hand against his cheek, stroking his fingers across the stubble on his jaw. It was all so very sweet and different from the shoving each other into walls, hard biting kisses from the night before. “Go back to your wife,” he said, quietly. “Don’t take her flowers or anything that would make her think that you did anything wrong.” 

“What makes you the expert?” Robert asked.

“It’s not my first rodeo,” Joseph said, and opened the front door for him, waited for him to cross the threshold. “Drive safely.”


	2. 2006-2008

Moving to the suburbs had never really been on his to do list, let alone moving to the suburbs in Massachusetts of all places, but if moving to Maple Bay was what Marilyn wanted in order to stay married to him then it was what she was going to get. He loved her so much, didn’t want to be without her, even if he was sometimes the shittest husband.

“I found a perfect house,” Marilyn said, and he looked over at her, smiled. She’d been spending every second weekend house-hunting in Massachusetts and Robert had spent his weekends getting reacquainted with his good friends Jack Daniels and Johnnie Walker. “It’s such a charming neighbourhood.”

Robert honestly felt they were about seventeen years too late on the suburbs thing. Their kid was grown up, about to leave them for college and they were moving nine hours away from everything they knew just to try to get their marriage to work in a way that it never had. It was a joke, it wasn’t going to work even if Robert wanted it to very badly. “I’m sure it’s great,” he said.

She looked at him like she wanted something else from him. Another reaction, maybe. He stood up, wrapped his arms around her and held her close for a minute. “It’ll be good for us,” she said.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

~*~

They’d moved into their house in Maple Bay late one afternoon, moved their bed in from the truck and fallen asleep on their mattress in the front room.

Well, Marilyn had fallen asleep. Robert had laid there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, wishing there was more noise outside. There was something strange about not being able to hear your neighbours constantly. He’d grown up ‒ spent his whole life ‒ in a series of apartments where you could hear everyone else’s business. Could hear the constant noise from traffic outside; sirens, cars, people, there was never complete silence in Brooklyn.

It was quiet here out in the suburbs, full of families,  people minding their own business.

He needed a cigarette. He untangled himself from his wife, leant down to kiss her shoulder gently, pulled a jacket on over his pyjamas and went out into the street. At night the cul-de-sac looked almost menacing. Each house dark and silent, no lights on, everyone fast asleep in their homes.

He chain-smoked three cigarettes and then went back inside his house to pretend to sleep some more. He’d get used to it, the quiet, the stars in the sky. It was just going to take time, and they had all the time in the world.

~*~

The noise that the doorbell made was an affront to society and whenever Robert worked out how to he was going to change it because it was just too happy. Maybe deactivate it completely somehow. That’d help him ignore any unwanted guests at the very least.

“What the fuck was that?” Marilyn asked, calling down from upstairs.

“Doorbell,” Robert called back.

“Hate it, gotta change that,” Marilyn said. “Can you get it?” Whether she meant answering the door or destroying the doorbell, he could, and would, do both.

“Yeah,” Robert said, navigating through the maze of boxes between the kitchen and living room to throw the door open.

Robert stared at the man on his doorstep and flashed back almost a solid decade to that same face breathless and writhing under him, clawing at his arms and back. “Hey, neighbour,” said Joseph Christiansen, all grown up, holding a plateful of cookies like he was running for neighbour of the year or something. He smiled, that same million dollar smile, just a few more lines on his face. He was taller, had definitely grown into himself.

“Hey,” said Robert, because he had no idea whether this guy even remembered who he was or not. It had been one night so many years ago. Robert looked so much older now and Joseph didn’t really. He wouldn’t have known a decade had passed looking at Joseph. Clean living would do that to a person, he supposed, and Robert’s life had been anything but clean. “I’m Robert. Robert Small.”

“Nice to meet you, Rob,” Joseph said. “I’m Joseph. I live next door.”

“Nice to meet you,” Robert echoed, feeling a little bit as if he had stepped into some kind of parallel universe, and then his wife was beside him, arm around his waist, smiling at their neighbour.

“Are you married?” Marilyn asked. She’d invited him in to share the cookies he’d brought with him, she’d made him tea, and Robert was just sitting there remembering what he looked like a decade ago on his knees with Robert’s hand fisted in his hair.

“Not yet,” Joseph said, with a smile. “Hopefully soon, though.”

“Nice boy like you won’t be single for long,” Marilyn said. “Won’t he, Robbie?”

“No,” Robert said, quietly, and when he looked over at his wife she was looking at him like he was a puzzle she couldn’t solve anymore.

“What was that all about?” she asked, when Joseph was gone and they were alone. “You got very weird back there.”

“I’m just tired,” he lied, and of course he lied. There was no way he was going to tell her any of this now. She smiled at him, put her hand on his cheek for a second and then turned away from him.

~*~

Everything about the move had been going well until it wasn’t and they were shouting at each other over where to put the glasses in the kitchen. Moving was stressful. One of the most stressful things you could possibly do, or so they said. Robert had no idea why they’d assumed moving to the sticks would do anything for their marriage other than exacerbate their problems. Leaving Brooklyn wasn’t the going to magically fix their personality flaws. They could both be as stubborn in Massachusetts as they were in New York.

Marilyn had told him to take a walk because she couldn’t stand looking at his face right now, and he’d grabbed his coat and walked out into the night. He’d walked the eerily quiet streets, but he supposed that was the draw of the suburbs, until he found a bar and well, whiskey would solve some of his problems surely.

“Hey man,” the bartender greeted him with a smile. “You new around here?”

“Yeah, just moved,” Robert said. He’d never been a fan of overly talkative bartenders. Just wanted to drink in silence but this guy had a nice face and seemed kind enough and it wouldn’t do to annoy the people who worked at the closest bar to his house.

“Cool,” the guy said, with a smile. “What’ll you have?”

“Whiskey, most middle priced one you have,” Robert said. “Please.”

“Coming right up,” the bartender said, with a smile. “I’m Neil, by the way. This is my bar.”

“Robert,” he replied.

He was three drinks deep into a hole when the door to the bar opened and in walked Joseph Christiansen looking a little bit like he was lost, like he had come in to ask for directions to somewhere more wholesome. He wandered up to the bar, stack of flyers in his hand and smiled at Neil. “Hey, can I put a poster up on your wall for a market at the church next month?” he asked. Well, that at least explained why he was there.

“Yeah sure,” Neil said, taking one of the posters from Joseph.

Once Neil’s back was turned, Joseph turned to look at Robert and smiled that bright smile that made Robert want to do whatever he wanted. “Hey there, neighbour,” he said. “You’re out late.”

“Suppose so,” Robert said, turning back to his drink. He’d been trying not to think about Joseph Christiansen, about the night they’d shared together all those years ago. It wasn’t a strategy that was necessarily working, but he was doing his best.

“How are you settling in?” Joseph asked, sliding into the barstool next to him like he’d been invited.

Robert shrugged. “It’s very different from the city,” he said. “Not sure how into it I am, honestly.

“New York, right?” Joseph asked.

“Yeah,” Robert said. “Brooklyn. It’s just very different out here, quieter. Not as much to do in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can find something to do,” Joseph said, smiling to himself. Robert stared at the side of his head.

Neil came back over, gave Robert another drink and smiled at Joseph. “I gave your poster the prime spot,” he said, pointing at the where he’d pinned the poster in the center of the bulletin board, covering flyers asking for guitar players for some band, or selling crystal ornaments that would purify your house.

“Thank you,” Joseph said, smiling brightly at Neil as he stood up. “Have a nice night, you two. See you around, Robert.” And with one last, lingering look, he was out the door and back to whatever he did when not in Robert’s line of sight, and Robert went back to his drink.

~*~

It was Thursday night and Marilyn was off at some group she’d joined to try to fit in with the suburbs mentality and Robert was sitting on a barstool at Jim and Kim’s knocking back whiskey like it was water with the assistant youth Pastor of Maple Bay sitting next to him drinking margaritas. It seemed that now that Joseph knew where he could be found most nights, Robert ended up seeing more of him. He wasn’t complaining, Joseph was incredibly easy on the eye and nice to talk to, even if sometimes his attitude was a little more holier than thou for Robert’s tastes.

“What exactly do you do?” Joseph asked him, running his fingertip around the rim of his glass. “For work, I mean?”

“Bit of this, bit of that,” Robert said, with a shrug. “What’s it like working for the church?”

“Fulfilling,” Joseph said. “In a few years I think Malcolm is going to retire and I’ll be made head Youth Pastor.” He crossed his fingers, held them up a little.

“Are you still aiming for the actual main Pastor’s job?” Robert asked, and Joseph looked up at him. _Oh wait_ , Robert thought, because that had definitely not been a conversation they’d had recently. That had been a conversation they’d had in 1996, lying naked in Joseph’s college bed, legs curled together and slightly breathless.

The corners of Joseph’s lips had tilted up slightly, not quite a smile but something close to it. “I was wondering when you’d slip,” Joseph said, looking back down at his glass. “I figured maybe you had forgotten me.”

“No,” Robert said, firmly. “I hadn’t.” And what even was the protocol with one night stands that happened a decade ago? “I figured you didn’t remember me.”

“I remembered you,” Joseph said, margarita in hand, unreadable smile still on his face. “I mean, how could I ever forget you?”

“I figured it had been years ago,” Robert said. “I don’t remember every random stranger I fucked as a twenty year old.” Not that he’d fucked many strangers at all, but he’d never really forgotten Joseph.

“I would never forget you,” Joseph said, quietly, holding eye contact which was a little unsettling.

They finished their drinks and then Robert stood up. Joseph looked at him, stood up as well. “We should go home,” Robert said, hoping that Joseph would decide what happened next. Whether they would go home separately or together, what going home even meant.  

“Yeah,” Joseph said.

They made it as far as the alleyway behind Jim and Kim’s before Joseph made up his mind and backed him into a wall, kissing him like no time at all had passed since the last time they had been together.

Robert let out a huff of breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when Joseph drew back. “I’m sorry,” Joseph said, sounding anything but. “I shouldn’t have… you’re married.”

“Don’t fucking apologise,” Robert said, and fisted a hand in the front of his shirt, dragging him back in, licking into Joseph’s mouth. He tasted like salt and lime, unsurprising given the margaritas he’d been drinking like they were water.

“My place?” Joseph asked, his hand between Robert’s legs, and it was so familiar and he wanted it so badly.

“We shouldn’t,” Robert said, because he had a wife who was waiting for him at home, probably getting angrier with him by the second but _God_ did he want to, and he had never been one to deny himself the things he wanted. Joseph leaned in a little closer, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and Robert was completely gone. “Okay, let’s go.”

There was never an innocent reason for one grown man to be in another grown man’s bedroom, unless one of those grown men was the other one’s father. And even then.

“Big house for just you,” Robert said. It wasn’t the biggest house in the cul-de-sac but it was too big for just him, rattling about. No wonder he always looked so lonely.

“It’s my family home. I grew up here with my parents and siblings. Hopefully one day soon it’s full of other people again,” Joseph said, and kissed Robert in a way that suggested it was time to stop talking. Robert could appreciate that, appreciate the lack of pointless conversation, but there was just something about Joseph that made him want to ask questions, take the chance to get to know him while he had it.

He pushed the urge down, pulled Joseph to him instead. Kissed him quiet and pliant and hard under his touch. Joseph had slid his hands up under Robert’s shirt, his hands were so warm, and it had been so long since anyone had touched him like he meant something.

Only when it was done and there was no going back from it all, when they were curled together and naked in Joseph’s bed, did Robert think about his wife. He had cheated on her before, had cheated on her so many years ago with Joseph himself, but this felt different. Felt like something completely different to just a one time thing. He was stroking his fingers through Joseph’s hair, the weight of him beside him comforting. There was an urge to fall asleep there, but he forced himself to move away, to climb out of the bed and go hunting for his pants.

“You could stay,” Joseph asked, and Robert had to ignore the note of hope in his voice or he’d never go home to his wife.

“I have to go home,” Robert said, not turning back to look at him. “Marilyn’ll be worried about where I got to.”

**~*~**

Marilyn had always looked at him like she could read every thought in his head, and after so many years together she probably had a pretty good idea about what he was thinking at all times. “You got in late, last night,” she said, when he came down after having a shower. “You didn’t come to bed.”

“Slept on the couch,” he said, pouring himself a mug of coffee to avoid looking at her. “Didn’t want to wake you up.” Partially true, partially a lie.

“Where were you?” she asked, as if she was genuinely curious about it. He turned to look at her and she was smiling at him, and he felt so guilty that he looked away again. Not guilty enough to tell her, mind, but guilty enough it was a gnawing feeling in his stomach that was hard to ignore.

“The bar,” he said, which was true enough and could be fact checked if she wanted to, though there was always the chance Neil would tell her that he had been drinking with Joseph, how close they had been sitting, how they had snuck out of the side door into the alley beside the bar. “And then the waterfront,” he added because he’d gotten back so many hours after last call.

“Okay,” she said, and leant over to kiss his cheek. “I love you.”.

“You too,” he said. He stood up and and leant down to press a kiss into her forehead. “I’m going to try to get some work done today.”

~*~

They hadn’t discussed it, but to Robert it was obvious that it couldn’t happen again. He loved his wife, truly loved her and he couldn’t keep betraying her like this, no matter how good it felt with Joseph. Also, Joseph was dating some mousy girl he’d met at his church. She seemed like a nice thing too, too nice to be fucking around on at least.

It wasn’t supposed to happen again, but of course it did. They kept meeting at the bar, seemingly by happenstance. Joseph would drop in after church, they’d sit together in a dark corner and talk until it was time to go home and they they would end up together in Joseph’s big empty house doing what people did when they were alone at night.

And then Robert would go home to his wife and lie to her, and she was getting more and more suspicious but he always had some story of where he had been, and she always just accepted it. And every time he told himself that would be the last time he would end up in Joseph’s bed, and every single time it wasn’t.

~*~

The accident had happened so quickly. One minute they were laughing, Marilyn singing along with the radio, the next the car was flipping and Marilyn was screaming. And then silence. Well, not silence, the sound of his wife wheezing and then after a few minutes of that silence again except for the ringing in his ears.

Things had been getting better between them, even if Robert was sleeping with their next door neighbour, even if Marilyn probably knew he was sleeping with their next door neighbour. She wasn’t happy about it, he knew that, but she hadn’t said anything to him about it yet so he was in the clear. For now. Well, forever now, because she was dead and he was alive.

When he finally came to, after a day or two in and out of consciousness, his daughter was asleep in a chair next to his bed. He looked at her, stared at her, took in every part of her that he could because he knew that when she woke up she would be gone from his life because the only thing that had kept them together was Marilyn and now she was gone.

“Dad?” she asked, when he noticed her looking at him. She stood up, pressed the button for the nurse.

Nurses came and the next hour was a blur of people talking to him, talking at him. He’d broken his arm and collarbone and his wife was dead.

Val stayed, he’d expected her to bail on out the second he was awake again, but she stayed like a guardian in the chair beside his bed while he pretended to sleep to avoid talking to her about her mother. It was a coward’s move, he was a coward and he couldn’t keep pretending to be asleep forever. She was there, in the chair next to him when Joseph came to visit. Robert heard him coming, the telltale step pattern on the linoleum floor, went stiller than he had been before.  Eyes closed, breathing even.

“You must be Valerie,” Joseph said, when Val stood up to greet him when he entered the room. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m Joseph, I live next door to your father.”

“Oh,” Val said, so very quietly, and in that moment Robert knew that she knew, knew that Marilyn had known. Knew that Marilyn had told her about his cheating. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I brought some fruit for your Dad,” he said, and there was the sound of him putting something down. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s mostly been asleep,” Val said, in a tone that suggested that she knew he’d been faking it most of the time to avoid talking to her. “I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

Joseph’s footsteps again, fading away, and then Val grabbed his knee through the blankets and sunk her nails into his skin. “Dad, tell me you didn’t,” she said, sounding so disappointed in him.

He opened his eyes to look at her, and that was all she needed. She’d always been able to see right through him, one of the perks of constantly disappointing her for her entire childhood, he supposed.

Two days after Marilyn’s funeral, where they had stood together faking solidarity, accepting condolences from friends and family and fucking Joseph who showed up like he had any right to be there, Val had packed up a bunch of her mother’s things and left without saying a single word to him.

He deserved her hate. He definitely deserved it when he left his house at ten at night, walked next door and knocked on Joseph’s door. Deserved it even more when Joseph let him in, night after night after night.

~*~

Time went on, slowly, slowly, and eventually the days got a little easier to bear without Marilyn there with him. He made friends in the neighbourhood, well, he made one friend in Brian who was almost impossible not to like, and he had Joseph at night when everything was quiet. The seasons changed and soon it had been an entire year since his wife had died, and then two, and then three, and Robert’s life continued the way it always had, just much quieter and without his daughter speaking to him.

Things were good, even, as good as they could possibly get, which meant Robert wasn’t surprised at all when the rug was pulled out from under him.

“I asked Mary to marry me,” Joseph said one night, like ten minutes ago he hadn’t had his mouth around Robert’s cock. He propped himself up against the headboard, looked out of the window like it wasn’t pitch black outside.

“That girl you were seeing?” Robert asked. He hadn’t realised things were that serious. Though, he supposed maybe it was. Mary was the daughter of a pastor in the neighbouring town, and pretty much the exact sort of person Robert expected that Joseph would end up with. She was quiet, mousey, didn’t seem to have much of a personality. They’d met once or twice in the almost four years Joseph had been dating her while also fucking Robert.

“My girlfriend, yes,” Joseph said.

“Oh,” Robert said, because he understood how this went. Robert’s life was in ruins, dead wife, estranged daughter, and here was Joseph getting married to some girl so he could live that perfect Christian life. Wife, bundle of children, eventually he’d be the pastor of their church which was exactly what he wanted. Good things came to those who waited, Robert supposed. “So, this is the end of this then?” 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Joseph said, like he’d already planned to just have Robert on the side of his marriage, like it was a done deal. 

“I don’t want you ruining your marriage like I ruined mine,” Robert said, and climbed out of bed. He got dressed with Joseph watching him, silently. Robert wasn’t sure what he wanted, whether he wanted Joseph to fight for him or let him go. In the end, Joseph said nothing, just watched as Robert left the room. 

It wasn't until later when he was a couple of whiskeys deep into the night that Robert thought that him leaving quietly, without putting up any kind of fight was what Joseph had wanted after all.


	3. 2008-2012

 

Time passed strangely in the suburbs. Some parts were fast and other parts were almost mind numbingly slow. He’d thought about going back to Brooklyn because there was nothing left for him in Maple Bay, but Brooklyn belonged to his daughter now, maybe all of New York was hers now and he should just stay away where she could pretend that he was the one who had died and not her mother. 

He passed his days working, or sitting in forests being the creepy guy people wrote bizarre posts about on the internet. He’d seen some of them, they were all pretty funny, and being  _ that weird cryptid guy _ was better that  _ sad lonely old man waiting for death in the woods _ . 

Joseph and Mary had gotten married in 2008. Robert had gone to the wedding out of some new kind of self inflicted punishment. He was resigned to his fate, completely deserved everything that happened to him for the rest of his sad and lonely life. He’d gone to the wedding alone, even though he’d been given a plus one and had been tempted to find the most inappropriate date possible, but that probably required trying to pretend about someone else’s feelings for an afternoon and he didn’t want that, so he went alone and sat at the back of the church and snuck out before the vows to chain smoke in the carpark. 

“Bum a smoke?” Mary asked, and he silently handed her one. “Weddings are the fucking worst.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be the best day of your life?” he asked her. She looked beautiful, she always looked beautiful, but up until this moment today she had looked like the kind of china doll you kept locked in a cabinet away from children’s sticky fingers. The fact she was wearing a huge wedding dress and smoking with him out in the car park behind her wedding reception was a definite look, and it somehow turned her into a person for him, like she was suddenly her own person and not just something that belonged to Joseph and looked good on his arm.

“Apparently. Thanks for this,” she said, dropping the butt and stamping it out with the toe of what looked to be very expensive shoes.

“Any time,” he said, and watched her walk inside the reception hall. Robert got into his car and went home. It was going to be much easier to get drunk in his house than it was at a wedding reception. 

Mary and Joseph’s first child, a boy, had been born on the 18th of June, 2009, and for some reason the idiots had called him Christopher. Christopher Christiansen, like that was a name the kid needed to be saddled with for the rest of his life. 

Once, in a supermarket, Mary had handed him the baby like he was a person that should be trusted with her infant, like they were friends. “Hold this, I have to go fight some lady for the produce I want,” she said, and then walked away. 

“I could be a murderer,” Robert said to the baby, who looked up at him with a stern face, like he was less a baby and more an old man come back to life for a second go at it. “Does she give you to strangers all the time?”

Mary came back holding a perfect looking watermelon and a bag of cherries and put them into her cart. “Thank you, Rob,” she said, holding her arms out for her baby. 

“Where’s Joseph?” he asked.

“Who fucking knows,” she replied, and before he could ask her anything she was gone, halfway down the aisle with zero intention of talking to him. 

Robert started bringing strangers home from the bar, most of them men, most of them blond, and sometimes he would catch Joseph’s eye the next morning as he was letting his latest hookup out while Joseph was getting his newspaper off the front lawn. Sometimes he waited deliberately until he knew Joseph was outside before he suggested to the men they should leave.

“Hey neighbour,” Robert said, waving at him one morning, as whatever his name was got into his car and drove away. 

“Hey,” Joseph said, staring at him like there was something he wanted to say. Robert waited, hoped that Joseph said something to him, but he just stared.  

“Well, see you around,” Robert said, turning around and going back into his house. And the next night it would repeat itself again with a new stranger, and again the night after that. A habit, not unlike his drinking. Coping mechanisms, in a fucked up kind of way. Well, whatever it took to get out of bed in the morning, right?

~*~

Just after midnight on New Year's Day, 2011, Mary gave birth to twins. She’d been as big as a house since August, had not stopped complaining about it. Honestly, the angrier and more abrasive she got, the more Robert liked her, the more he couldn’t believe that once he’d thought of her as a church mouse with zero personality. She probably had the most personality out of the entire neighbourhood ignoring that weird guy who had just moved in who was probably a vampire. 

He took her flowers to the hospital and she stared at him. “Do you think I want flowers?” she asked. 

“It’s the done thing,” he said. 

“Fuck the done thing,” she said. “You should have brought me something practical. Like Valium.”

“What ridiculous names did you give these two?” he asked, peering into the cribs beside her bed. Newborns scared him. When Val was this small he hadn’t wanted to touch her for fear of somehow breaking her, and these two were smaller than she had been. 

“Christian and Christie,” Mary said, sounding completely resigned to her fate and the fate of her newborns.

“Fuck off,” Robert said, looking over at her. “Hope you two have a therapy fund in place of a college fund because you’re gonna need it.” 

She laughed, the most bitter sounding laugh he had ever heard. “I didn’t get much of a say,” she said. “Whatever. I’ll just give them ridiculous nicknames and make them stick over their real names.”

“Atta girl,” Robert said, reaching down to wiggle his fingers in front of Christie’s face. 

That’s where Joseph found him later, still in Mary’s hospital room, one of the twins sleeping in his arms after Mary had told him to stop being such a baby and hold one of them while she held the other. 

“This is yours,” Robert said, standing up and carefully handing him the infant. He wasn’t even going to begin to try to read the look on Joseph’s face, he’d given up trying to do that years ago. It was an unwinnable task, just when he thought he had the answer Joseph changed completely and he had to start all over again. “Where’s the other one?” 

“With Damien,” Mary said. “He’s great with kids.” 

“Fair enough,” Robert said, shrugging. “I better make tracks. The cheap whiskey at Jim and Kim’s won’t drink itself. See ya, Mary. Joseph.” 

He was about ten steps down the hallway before he heard Joseph following him. “Why were you here?” Joseph asked, as if accusing him of something. Robert wished he’d done something worth being accused of. He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his leather jacket and turned around to look at him. Looked him up and down and then shrugged his shoulders. 

“Just coming to congratulate you and your wife,” Robert said, slowly and quietly. “It’s what people do.”

“It’s what  _ friends _ do,” Joseph said. “And you’ve made it pretty clear that we’re not friends.”

“I guess that’s true. Well, anyway, I’m glad your life is working out the way you wanted it to,” Robert said, looking at Joseph. “You deserve it.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Joseph asked. 

“Buddy, you can read into that whatever you want to,” Robert said, staring at him for a minute. “I’m going home.” 

~*~

As far as Robert knew, Joseph hadn’t been into Jim and Kim’s since before the wedding, but here he was sitting in the booth in the corner as if a day hadn’t gone by. The man had barely aged, still looked as good as he did when they had reconnected, but tonight he looked tired. Tired in a way that suggested more than just the having three kids and a busy life tired. 

Robert weighed his options, which were a girl on the other end of the bar who was probably way too young for him, and some guy who he saw from time to time in the supermarket and chose to sit down across from Joseph instead. “Hey,” Robert said, sliding him a glass across the table. “Drink this, you’ll feel better.” 

“What is it?” Joseph asked, looking down at the glass. “Whiskey?”

Robert smiled, shook his head. “It’s water, actually. Drinking whiskey when you’re sad just makes you sadder.”

“Do you know that from experience?” Joseph asked, looking up at him. His hair had drooped a little, like even it was sad, and there was a tiny voice in the back of Robert’s head, one he’d been ignoring for years now, that was telling him to reach out and touch it, to try to fix it as if fixing his hair would fix whatever problems Joseph had. 

“My whole life is an experience,” Robert said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“We’re not friends,” Joseph said, but took the glass of water from him anyway. 

“Don’t need to be friends to tell someone your problems,” Robert said, shrugging. “I mean, you’re in a bar. Prime spot to tell strangers all about your problems.”

“Mary’s been drinking,” Joseph said, quietly. “A lot. I’m just worried about her.”

Robert kind of knew that already. He’d seen her in here once or twice, nodded at her from across the room before going home with a stranger for the night. As far as he knew (from asking the staff), Neil or one of the other bartenders walked her home most nights to make sure she got there safely and didn’t end up dead in a ditch or in the ocean. 

“She can handle herself,” Robert said, which was true enough. Mary was possibly the strongest person that he knew. “Maybe you gotta ask yourself why she’s drinking and see if you can fix it.”

“She doesn’t want my help,” Joseph said, and sounded way too bitter about it for Robert’s liking. Marriage was hard, he had memories of telling a much younger Joseph that marriage was hard work, and here he was, proving the kid right.

“You gotta find a way to give her what she needs then,” Robert said. “Even if what she needs is a little space. Come on, I’ll walk you home.” 

The next night, Joseph was there again, and Robert apparently had left all his common sense at home. In a stunning display of the past repeating itself, they ended up in the alleyway behind the bar, pressed up against the same filthy wall, making out like they were in their twenties. Clinging to each other like Robert didn’t have a dead wife, like Joseph didn’t have a live one and three small children. 

Joseph was kissing him like no time had passed since the last time they kissed, his fingers curled against Robert’s jaw. “I’ve missed this,” he said, against Robert’s mouth. 

“We can’t,” Robert said, even though he wanted to so badly. Wanted nothing more that Joseph to stay pressed up against him, kissing him. Robert wanted to bury his face into Joseph’s hair and breathe in the clean, warm scent of it. “You’re married.” 

“You were married too, once,” Joseph said. And well, that was definitely a convincing argument there. He leant back a little, Robert’s face still in his hands, like he was holding something precious. “I’ve missed this,” he said again, so quietly, and with those words all the resolve Robert had crumbled and he leant up and kissed the other man.

They made it back to Robert’s house and fell into bed like no time had passed at all, moving together like it was a dance they knew all the steps to by memory. Joseph kissed him gently against the corner of his mouth, the softest most tender of kisses, and Robert hadn’t realised how much he had missed his touch until now. Pressed tiny open mouth kisses against his jawline, up to the spot behind his ear that drove him crazy when Joseph pressed his tongue against it. 

“Hey,” Robert said. “Slow down, we have time.” Which, maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. Maybe unlike their last affair, this was a one time thing. Robert pushed those thoughts aside and slid his hands under and up Joseph’s shirt, pulling it over his head, throwing it to the side. He’d just make the best of whatever time they had, he supposed. 

~*~

Of course, it didn’t end up being a one time thing, because Robert was the worst person in the entire universe. Joseph was married, and unlike Robert whose child had been old enough to understand what was going on, Joseph’s kids were tiny children.

His life felt more together with Joseph in it, like he had a handle on things. It was a terrible reason to continue an affair but Robert’s entire life had been doing things that made him feel good, so he was going to continue it until it all imploded and he was left alone again. This time it involved a lot more sneaking around than the last time, partially because Joseph had no reason to be out late at night and there was only so much church business he could fake before Mary started getting suspicious. 

Robert tried not to think of Mary but it was hard not to. She was friendly enough to him. Smart, sarcastic, had a sense of humor that made him laugh whenever he ran into her and got to speak to her one on one. Sometimes he would be invited to dinner, probably Mary taking pity on the widower, and he would go and try so very hard not to stare at Joseph while he was there. 

The affair dragged on for almost a year, the two of them meeting up whenever they could, whenever they had an hour or so to spare without Mary getting suspicious. Robert felt that everything was going fine, that maybe it could just keep going on the way things were going on, even if sometimes he wondered if part of him was damaged because of this whole thing. He wasn’t sure he believed in heaven, but if there was one he definitely had disqualified himself from the whole shebang years ago. 

Everything was fine until it wasn’t, until Robert was thrown awake at practically three in the morning because next door Mary and Joseph were screaming at each other. It was a downside to the suburbs, it was very quiet at night and everyone could hear everyone else’s business, and his and Joseph’s houses had always been very close together. He couldn’t make the words out, just their angry voices, and then the slam of a door. One of the kids started to cry and a car started and pulled away. 

Robert sat up, fumbled around in the dark for his phone and called Joseph. 

“Where are you?” he asked, when he finally picked up. Either he was the one who had gone or he was the one who had stayed, and either way, Robert could go to him, help him. 

“The boat,” Joseph said. The boat was probably Joseph’s actual true love. According to Mary, he’d bought it on a whim, without even talking to her about it, like he did everything else in their marriage. That had been the topic of several fights that Robert had overheard from next door. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and snuck out into the night, choosing to walk which had nothing at all to do with the fact Mary was definitely still awake and would have some questions for him if she heard his car. 

The waterfront was strange during the day in wintertime, but at night was positively spooky. It was too quiet, too still. The ocean a dark, unforgiving black, like monsters lurked under the surface just waiting for him to make a mistake so they could drag him down into the depths. There were a few boats moored along it, but only one had a light on. Robert walked towards it, was drawn towards almost. When he got closer he saw Joseph sitting at the front of the boat, his feet dangling over the side. 

“Hey,” Robert said, quietly, but loud enough Joseph heard him over the lapping of the water. He carefully climbed onto the boat, always a little worried that he would fall in, and made his way around to sit next to him. 

“Hey,” Joseph said, and leant into his side. 

“What happened?” Robert asked, rubbing Joseph’s arm gently, trying to warm him up but the wind was so very icy.

“She found out about us,” Joseph said. “Apparently she’s known for a while.”

“Shit,” Robert said, but it was always going to play out this way, wasn’t it? “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Joseph said. “I guess my marriage probably needs some work. I guess I live on this boat for now.”

“You could come and stay with me,” Robert said, but he knew that was never going to happen. “You don’t have to live on this boat. I have a spare room, your kids are next door. You can try to talk to Mary about things.” 

“I’m not sure what it says if she accuses me of sleeping with you and I move into your house,” Joseph said. “I’ll just stay here.”

“I’m a little worried you’re going to go out onto the ocean and never come back,” Robert said, rubbing his back gently. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Joseph said.

“No?” Robert asked.

“No,” Joseph said, and leant over, closing the gap between them to kiss Robert gently. “I wouldn’t do that.” He pressed his head into Robert’s neck, his breath hot against his skin. “I never thought I would be this unhappy,” he said.

“You don’t have to be,” Robert said. “You could just leave her. Divorce her.” 

“It’s not that easy,” Joseph said, drawing back to look at him. “We made vows, promises. We have the kids, the twins are just babies. I love her, I do, but… I haven’t been a very good husband to her, and I don’t think she’s been a very good wife to me. I want to leave her. I just… thought things would be easier. Naively, I suppose.”

“Marriage is hard work,” Robert said. “And I was never very good at being a very good husband.” 

“When I was younger, all I wanted was a wife and a bunch of kids,” Joseph said.

“When I was younger I wanted a motorbike and to fuck a supermodel,” Robert said. “Sometimes, you just don’t get what you want in life. Sometimes you just have to make do with what you do have.”

“I love you,” Joseph said, like it was a revelation, like it was a conclusion he was just coming to and Robert stared at him. In a way, he felt like he had been waiting for Joseph to love him, because he probably loved Joseph as much as he felt he was capable of loving someone. But on the other hand, he didn’t know what to do with that knowledge now he had it. “I want to be with you,” Joseph added.

“I want to be with you too,” Robert said, and that was at least something he could easily admit to. “I think maybe I have for a long time, since you walked back into my life.” 

Joseph kissed him, like he was trying to get Robert to stop talking, a surefire way to get Robert to stop talking. He let Joseph kiss him, let Joseph take him down into the cabin, let Joseph fuck him, and when Joseph fell asleep he laid there and thought about what happened next. 

He let himself picture a future where they got to be together, their lives were terrible but they were together and they were happy enough. In his fantasy, Mary didn’t hate them, the kids got to run in and out of both houses and everyone was happy. He knew though, knew in his heart of hearts that was never going to happen, but a man could hope, couldn’t he? Pretend that maybe there was a future where he got some kind of happy ending. He drifted of to sleep thinking about that and woke up the next morning with Joseph still in his arms, the sunlight hitting him in a way that made him look perfect and golden, like a god that he didn’t deserve to touch. 

“Good morning,” Robert whispered, when Joseph woke up. He could count the amount of times they had woken up in the same bed on one hand. Even after Marilyn’s death they’d mostly always slept in their respective beds, keeping it as secret as they could keep it.   
  
“I need to go talk to Mary,” Joseph said, rolling onto his back and looking up at the roof of the boat cabin. “Work out what we’re going to do, how we’re going to do this.” 

“You should,” Robert said. “I don’t think she’s been happy for a long time either, maybe she wants this to end as much as you do?”

Joseph made a noise, sat up and stared out the window onto the ocean, already dotted with fishing boats out on the horizon. “Maybe,” he said. “I gotta go, gotta be there for when the kids wake up.” Robert watched him get dressed, let him lean down and kiss him gently in a way that felt a little bit like goodbye. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” Robert said. He rolled over, pretended to go to sleep, and when he was completely sure that Joseph was gone he got up and walked back to his own house, snuck in through his backyard like he was a robber and took a bottle of whiskey to bed with him. 

**~*~**

He didn’t see Joseph for three days. Knew he was next door, could hear him and Mary yelling at each other sometimes, but Joseph didn’t come and talk to him, didn’t answer his calls or messages. On the fourth day, when he was wondering whether he should go next door and make sure Mary hadn’t murdered him, there was a knock at the door and Joseph Christiansen standing on the other side wearing his best clothes like he was going to church. 

“Hey,” Robert said, and knew what Joseph was going to say before he even opened his mouth. In a way he had known how this was all going to play out since they had woken up together on that fucking boat, curled together like whatever they had was something more than just a fling. 

“I… I’m staying with Mary,” Joseph said, and he wouldn’t meet Robert’s eyes. “We talked… worked things out a little, we’re going to stay together.”

Of course they were. Robert let out a laugh, nodded his head. “Well, have fucking fun with that,” he said. “Your shitty life where both of you are miserable.”

“I’m sorry,” Joseph said, and actually sounded like he meant it. “I never meant to hurt you.”

It should hurt, it should have made him feel something. But maybe he’d been dead inside for a long time, and whatever feelings Joseph had made him feel were complete fiction. He nodded, like it was completely okay and said, “go fuck yourself, Christiansen,” before swinging the door closed in Joseph’s face. 

~*~

He was three stiff drinks into his Tuesday night pity party when Mary Christiansen slid into the chair next to him and looked at him like she knew every secret inside his heart. “Did he tell you that he loved you?” she asked, and she didn’t even look angry, more just resigned to whatever the answer was. 

“Yeah,” Robert replied, figuring lying to her was just a waste of everyone’s time. She obviously already knew, how much she knew was still a mystery but she surely knew enough. 

She nodded her head once and then waved Neil over. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said, smiling at him, and it was honestly the realist expression he had seen on her face in a long time, years even. “Be a doll and bring me whatever he’s having and just a whole bottle of wine for me, please. On his tab.” Neil looked at him, like he was asking for permission. Robert shrugged. “He fucked my husband,” Mary said, with a smile. Neil accepted that with a nod and went to get their drinks. 

“You must hate me,” Robert said. He wanted her to. He wanted someone to hate him as much as he hated himself.

“I should,” Mary said, “but I don’t. Mostly I just pity you. You’re the idiot who expected a married man to leave his wife for you.”

“He said you were over,” Robert said, and he’d felt it was a lie when the words had slid out of Joseph’s mouth but he’d wanted it to be true so badly that he was willing to ignore the feeling in his gut about how Joseph was lying. Saying it out loud now just kind of confirmed how much of an idiot he’d been about it. He was far too old for this bullshit but here he was. 

She laughed, no humour in it at all. “Unfortunately for the both of us, that’s unlikely to ever happen,” she said. “He wants his perfect cookie cutter life, no matter how unhappy I am or how many dicks he wants to suck.”

“How did you find out?” he asked.

“Put two and two together,” she said, smiling when Neil came back with her wine and Robert’s whiskey. “Thank you,” she said, smiling at Neil again. “Put two and two together and then asked him if he’d been fucking you and he told me the whole sordid truth. What a fucking asshole.” 

Robert rested his head against the bar, didn’t expect Mary to reach over and pat his back gently. 

“Looks like we’re both idiots,” she said, and held her glass up. “Here’s to both of us idiots, in love with the asshole that is Joseph Christiansen.” 

“Cheers,” Robert said, with no goodwill in it at all, and tapped the rim of his glass against hers. 


	4. 2014-2016

Robert and Mary had settled into something akin to friendship. They weren’t true friends, not really, but they were more than just drinking buddies. They were some kind of middle ground where they drank as much as they could until someone was practically unconscious and had awkward conversations about things in between terrorizing everyone else in the bar.

“You never actually go home with anyone else,” Robert said. He hadn’t thought about it really, had watched her flirt her way into so many free drinks over the years but he’d always been the one to walk home with her when he was there, and knew that Neil had one of his staff members walk her home if he wasn’t there, if he had gone home with one of the random strangers from the bar.

“No,” Mary said. “Unlike my husband, I take marriage seriously.” She said it like it was a competition she was winning, and he supposed she had won it years ago. Won it while Joseph was on his knees in front of him, won it even now with Joseph taking God knew who out on the boat some weekends.

“Why don’t you leave him?” Robert asked.

“I’d never see my kids again,” Mary said, raising a glass in a toast. “And I love them.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“You’re one to talk,” she said. “When was the last time you talked to your daughter? I love my children, or at least I would love them more if I felt like they were mine and not possessions that belonged to my husband that could be torn away from me at any second.”

“What do you mean?” Robert asked. But he knew exactly what she meant. Sometimes he felt like a possession that belonged to Joseph, even though it had been so long since he had been anything to Joseph.

“If we got divorce it would end up going before a judge and what judge is going to give three kids to a washed up alcoholic slut over a respected figure of the community? Joseph has a real job, I work at an animal shelter where I barely get paid,” she said. “It’s just… easier. If I detach myself now.”

“I don’t think that’s fair to your kids,” Robert said. “They love you.”

She made a dismissive noise, finished her wine and for five minutes they sat in silence. “I think,” Mary said, suddenly turning to him, as if their conversation from minutes before had never happened, her eyes lighting up, “that you should get a dog.”

“No,” Robert said.

“No, it’s perfect,” she said, clapping her hands together and standing up from the bar. “Come on, I have the perfect one for you. She’s so lovable and loyal and she needs a home.”

“I don’t want a dog,” Robert said. “I can’t look after a dog. I can’t look after myself.”

“Dogs help with that,” Mary said, suddenly serious, like she was magically sober somehow. Like she hadn’t drank almost a whole bottle of wine at midday on a Thursday and had been drinking ever since. Robert was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to walk a straight line if he bet her a hundred bucks she could. “I couldn’t get through a day without the dogs and cats at the shelter.”

He looked at her, she looked at him, and then smiled because she knew she had won. He couldn’t say no to her. You couldn’t have a long torrid affair with a woman’s husband, then befriend said woman and ever say no to her again.

They broke into the shelter. Well, was it truly breaking in if they had a key and were with the manager? Robert said no, Mary said yes because it wasn’t opening hours and they were breaking in to steal a dog.

“This,” Mary said, holding up a tiny, ridiculous looking dog, “is Betsy.”

“What is that?” Robert asked, looking at the ball of fur in Mary’s arms. He’d always felt that if he had gotten a dog it would have been something tough looking. A Pitbull maybe, or a Mastiff. Something that said manly man. Whatever the hell Betsy was did not say that.

“She’s a Boston Terrier,” Mary said. “And she loves you.” Mary unceremoniously dumped the tiny dog into Robert’s arms.

“Will she grow up to look tough?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not really,” Mary said. “She’ll grow up to look a bit like an idiot, but she’ll love you completely and that’s all you really need from a dog.”

He scratched her behind her ears, smiling a little when she licked at his fingers. “Let me adopt her properly,” he said, because he was keeping this dog.  

“Oh sweetheart, you wouldn’t pass the test you need to pass to adopt a dog from us,” Mary said. “I’ll clear it up tomorrow, but let’s just take her now.”

 ~*~

 In a way, Betsy helped. Having something that relied on him to live helped him keep his life on some kind of schedule. He got up in the morning to feed her and let her out, and went to bed at night because she was asleep on his feet and he didn’t want to move her. She gave him something to do when he was thinking about _Joseph fucking Christiansen_ and getting too sad about his entire life. She even was a good enough partner for when he was cryptid hunting in the dead of night. She was a good dog, dumb as a box of bricks but he loved her anyway.

He was sitting on his front step, watching Betsy investigate the bush in his yard, and in a minute he would probably have to go fish her out of the bush but that would be a problem when it came to it.

“Can I pat your dog?”

Robert looked up and into the (somewhat less creepy without her twin around) eyes of Christie Christiansen. He looked at her for a minute, wondered how the hell those kids always stayed so clean. Val at that age had always been covered in dirt. “She’s not my dog,” he said. “But she does like belly rubs.”

Christie looked at him with suspicion, and the look on her face was entirely Mary. It was nice, they were such clones of their father that it was good to see something of Mary in them.

“What’s her name?” Christie asked, bending down to pat her. Betsy immediately rolled over so Christie could rub her belly.

“It says Betsy on her tag, so I guess that’s her name,” Robert said.

Christie nodded like it was important information, focused all her energy on patting the dog.

“I know she’s your dog, Mr. Small,” said someone from behind him. Chris, looking just as sullen as usual. Surely it wasn’t great for an eight year old to look that sullen. Eventually the wind changed and you were stuck like that, right?

“Oh yeah, what’s your evidence?” Robert asked.

“I can see into your yard from my bedroom,” Chris said, unblinking.

“Proves nothing, shortstack,” Robert said, the corner of his mouth quirking up unwillingly.

“Kids,” came Joseph’s voice from the doorway of their house. He met Robert’s eyes. Robert nodded at him. “Come inside for breakfast.” And then he turned away and was gone.

“Bye,” Christie said, and kissed Betsy on the head, Betsy’s tail wagging like this was the best day of her tiny dog life. “Bye Betsy. Can I come pat her again?”

“I mean, she’s not my dog but I’m sure she’d love it,” Robert said.

Christie nodded excitedly, then dashed back into her house.

“Why aren’t you friends with my Dad anymore?” Chris asked, once she had gone, and hoo boy that was a conversation he wasn’t having with this kid. “You used to hang out all the time.”

“We’re still friends,” Robert said. _Lying is a sin, Robbie,_ said Joseph’s voice in his head. “Go have breakfast. Be good to your siblings.”

~*~ 

“Hey, Smalls,” Mary said, when Robert finally answered the phone. “I need a favour.”

“What is it?” he asked. He rubbed at his eyes and wondered what time it was. The sun was bright outside, apparently he’d forgotten to close the shades. Rookie mistake, that. The trick was to never open them in the first place, that way you could never get caught unawares by daylight when you were hungover.

“I need you to get something from my house and bring it to the church,” Mary said.

“Nope,” Robert said. “Get Damien to do it.”

“He’s out of town,” Mary said. “He and Lucien were going to some nerd thing, I don’t know. Please, Robbie, you’re my only hope. I have the kids here and Joseph’s just… please, Robert.”

“Okay,” Robert said, sitting up. “What is it?”

“So, Elizabeth Alcott said that her peach cobbler was better than mine, which is a lie because that bitch can’t bake and everything she brings to these sales is store bought,” Mary said. “And so I made one and it’s in my fridge and _someone_ was supposed to bring it with him but lo and behold he forgets about everything that might matter to me.”

“You can’t win at a bake sale,” Joseph said, in the background. “It’s terrible manners. We’re supposed to be helping the community.”

“Suck my dick, Joseph,” Mary said. “Please, Robert. I need to destroy her.”

“I better get a slice of this whatever the fuck I’m breaking into your house for,” Robert said, already up, already pulling pants on and looking for a shirt that looked like it’d been washed at least once this month. “I didn’t even think you baked stuff for this shit anymore.”

“I don’t, usually,” she said. “Just when- oh my god, Christian, please stop kicking your sister, if she starts crying she’s not going to stop and I’m going to tell every single person here that you’re possessed. Sorry, sorry, I just bake when bitchy mothers tell me they’re better than me. Bring out the big guns.”

“Well, I better help you win this bake sale or whatever,” he said. “Am I gonna need to smash a window or what?”

“There’s a spare in one of those dumb fake rocks in the plant near the door, like we’re just asking for someone to come in and rob us and murder us in our beds,” she said. “Thank you, you’re a lifesaver. Christian, for frick’s sake-” and then she’d hung up, presumably to yell at her children some more.

Breaking in to the Christiansen house was easy enough, as Mary said they had a key hidden in the most ridiculous and suburbs place you could hide a key, and the cobbler was exactly where Mary said it would be. For a second Robert stood in the house and thought about the last time he had been here, before Mary, before the children, how he had shoved Joseph against the kitchen counter, what they had done there. The house looked different now, covered in the general debris that happened when you had small children. There were colourful pictures on the fridge, toys on the bench. There was more life here now, but somehow it felt like it was all just for show, like even the children were playacting at being regular people. 

"Alright," Robert said. "Nothing here for me now." He straightened the pictures on the fridge a little, picked the cobbler off the bench and left the house, tucking the key back into the rock on his way back to the car. 

The bake sale was the usual crowd of church people and others from the neighbourhood who always showed up to buy cakes and things from various people. Robert had gone to a lot more of them before his wife had died, before Joseph had gotten married, before the twins were born, but this was the first time he’d set foot on church property in a long while. He’d stood at the edge of the road for a minute, Mary’s fucking dish in his hand, staring up at the church like maybe he’d catch fire if he stepped onto consecrated grounds. Though, he supposed Joseph was here all the time and was fine.

“Mr Small!” Christie yelled excitedly appearing out of fucking nowhere, and she was the most animated kid when away from her twin. “Mr. Small! Mommy said you were coming! She’s over there.” She pointed in the vague direction of a cluster of people around closer to the church.

“Do you want to be my navigator?” he asked. She nodded solemnly, as if she had been given the most important task. Robert scooped her up, holding her against one hip and Mary’s fucking peach cobbler in his other hand. She giggled, pointed across the church yard to where Mary was standing, arms crossed against her chest, obviously having some kind of argument with some bossy looking woman.

“I found this,” Robert said, wandering over to them, Christie still giggling. “Also this child seems to be yours.”

“Thank you,” Mary said, and snatched the covered dish from him and stormed inside the church. He adjusted his grip on Christie.

“Mommy’s in a bad mood,” she said, quietly, like it was a secret. Well, he had eyes, he could see that. She was about seven and a half months pregnant. Some women glowed when they were pregnant, Mary just radiated hatred.

“Where are your brothers?” he asked.

“With Daddy,” she said.

 _Fucking great._ “Do you know where he is?”

Christie pointed across the churchyard, where now he was looking he could see Joseph talking with some tall man that he looked like he was flirting with. What a fucking asshole. He could at least do this shit when Mary wasn’t miserably pregnant, when she could drown her issues with it in wine and vodka and whatever else was going down at the bar. Where did he even keep finding these men to flirt with and, presumably, have tiny pocket sized versions of the years long affairs he'd had with Robert? How didn't they see right though him? How hadn't Robert seen right through him? Robert stormed across the yard, a little more storm clouds than he was probably intending. The guy Joseph had been flirting with took one look at him and bailed on out. Smart man.

Joseph at least looked relieved to see Christie, and like he didn’t care at all Robert had just scared away some man he was into. He was immediately all smiles and perfect hair and the asshole could have at least pretended to be pissed off Robert had chased off some fresh meat. “There you are!” he said, reaching for Christie, Robert handed her over. “What did I tell you about running off?"

“Not to,” Christie said, brightly.

“Well, at least she was listening to me,” Joseph said to Robert, like everything was fine and perfect between them. Like they were friends. Robert smiled in the way you smiled at someone you really didn't want to talk to and nodded his head. “Did she bother you?”

“She never bothers me,” Robert said. “She’s a good kid.”

“Thank Mr. Small, Christie,” Joseph said, booping her on the nose. “And I’ll give you some money so you can go buy a treat?”

“Do you want me to just keep her?” Robert asked, in a fit of wanting to do the nice thing for a change and wondering how long it would take Joseph to realise that Christian had left before this conversation had even started to hit some other children with sticks. “You seem to have your hands full and I’m not doing anything and Mary promised me some of… whatever I just brought her. Figured I’d just hang about and let her take her rage out on me. Give the general public a break."

“That would actually be really helpful,” Joseph said. He looked relieved. “Hey Christie, do you wanna hang out with Mr. Small some more?”

“Okay,” she said, and reached her tiny child arms back across the gap between them. Christie was pretty good company for a church fair, nobody talked to him because she creeped them out too much, and she somehow knew everyone’s secrets in a way that was probably just her parroting things back that Mary had said to her. 

“You seem to still have my daughter,” Mary said, when Robert found her again. He’d somehow been swindled into buying her a second cupcake, figured that whatever sugar high he caused would be inflicted on Joseph. 

“Your husband seemed to have his hands full,” Robert said. He sat down on a park bench, patted the seat next to him. 

“Good,” Mary said, and collapsed into the bench next to him. She rubbed her hand over her stomach. “I hope this one looks like me.”

“She looks like you,” Robert said, pointing at where Christie was playing with another little girl in the grass. The look of disdain on her face at whatever the other girl was saying was pure Mary. “I can’t believe you got pregnant again. I didn’t even think you and he were…”

She shrugged. “I miss drinking,” she said. “What a fucking nightmare.”

Christie skipped over, climbed up into her mother’s lap, patted her stomach gently. “Mr. Small got me a cupcake,” she said.

“I can see,” Mary said, pulling a tissue out of whatever pocket of space mothers carried tissues in and rubbing at Christie’s face with it. “Was it good?”

Christie shrugged. “Yours are better,” she said.

Mary roared with laughter, rested her forehead against her daughter’s. Christie beamed at her mother. “That’s my girl,” Mary said, kissing her forehead and handing her five bucks. “Go play. Maybe go buy a huge red drink and be Daddy’s problem some more.”

~*~ 

Robert had been there when she’d gone into labour and it had been awful. He hadn’t been there when Val was born, he’d been off working some build site up in Westchester and when he’d gotten back he’d been a father. Mary had refused to call Joseph, said she didn’t want him there so Robert had drove her to the hospital and stayed with her.

“Are you the father?” the midwife had asked him, when he was filling in her admissions forms as best he could with the knowledge he knew and what he’d taken from her purse.

Mary had laughed, vicious, laced with the pain of contractions. “I fucking wish,” she said, still laughing. “Could you imagine the look on Joseph’s face? Drugs,” she then said. “As many as you can give me. Tick that box, Smalls.”

“There is no drugs box,” Robert said, looking at the forms.

After five hours of Mary screaming at him and Robert threatening to leave because this all had nothing to do with him anyway, Matthew Christiansen was born into the world screaming almost as loudly as his mother had. The whole situation had been exhausting for Robert, he had no idea how Mary had any energy left at all.

“This one’s mine,” she said, quietly, her eyes still a little wild.

“They’re all yours,” Robert said, from where he was tucked behind her still. The baby was tiny and red faced and had darker hair like his mother. He’d seen Chris and the twins shortly after they were born, and they had all been so very blonde. It was nice that this one wasn’t a tiny version of his father.

“Mm,” she said, and then the moment was broken completely when Joseph showed up. He’d looked at the two of them, curled up on a hospital bed with a tiny baby, and the look on his face was something Robert couldn’t even begin to read. Confusion, maybe. Anger. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen anger on Joseph's face in all the years he'd known him. Whatever it was, it was probably the realest thing he'd seen from the other man in a while. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Robert said, moving out from behind Mary, replacing himself with pillows so Joseph didn’t get any ideas. “Congratulations, Mary.” He kissed her on the forehead, and then baby Matthew, and then left without saying anything to Joseph, without Joseph saying anything to him. It felt, a little bit, like some kind of victory. 

~*~ 

 It was a good night to make a horrible mistake.

Rough winds blowing in off the ocean, a bitter chill that went right down to the bone even through his leather jacket, the taste of snow on the air. The street was quiet, everyone else inside where it was warm, spending time with their kids. Robert was sitting on the step of his house, chain smoking and wondering whether he could be bothered walking to the bar or if he was just going to go inside and drink alone with his dog.

“Hey Robbie.” Well, here was Robert’s number one biggest mistake of his entire life now. He looked up from the ground in front of him and over at his neighbour. Joseph looked vulnerable, in a way Robert couldn’t really describe, and if Robert knew it wasn’t all an act he would be tripping over himself to ask him what was wrong. But he’d done this dance before and he wasn’t in the mood for it today.

“Joseph,” Robert said, hoping he would go back into his house, that they wouldn’t have whatever conversation Joseph wanted to have. As always, he didn't get what he wanted.

“Nice night?” Joseph said, folding his arms against his chest to ward himself from the cold wind. He still had that blue sweater tied around his shoulders, like he was about to go to a photoshoot for _Assholes on a Boat Monthly_ , a magazine for asshole boat owners who needed to know how to dress in a way that said  _I own a boat_ and  _I am the worst man alive._

“Oh yeah, fucking great,” Robert said. “You know, if you wore that sweater like an actual human person instead of a pretentious dick you’d probably be less cold.”

“I thought you’d be with Mary,” Joseph said, ignoring his comments.

“Not tonight,” Robert said. As far as he knew, her and Damien had gone to see some show. It didn’t surprise him that Joseph had no idea where his wife was, and he wasn’t going to be the one to tell Joseph anything he didn’t have to.

“Can I sit down?” Joseph asked, and he’d walked over to stand at the line between the sidewalk and Robert’s yard. Public property, like a safety zone between them.

“Free country,” Robert said, but moved over a little so Joseph could sit next to him on the step, like he couldn't ever stop himself from doing what Joseph wanted to do. He sat down, rubbed his hands together as if trying to keep them warm. His body was warm against Robert’s side, residual heat from the inside of the Christiansen house he supposed, but Joseph had always been warm against him. It had been great in winter, better than any blanket he had ever owned.

“I wanted to… apologise,” Joseph said, quietly.

“Leave it,” Robert said. “I don’t want your apologies.”

“I miss you,” Joseph said, quietly, and his words sounded surprisingly genuine. Robert turned to look at him, Joseph staring down at his hands, twirling his wedding ring round and round on his finger. His expression looked genuine enough, but Joseph had always been good at putting the emotion that other people expected to see on his face. 

“Do you?” Robert asked, his tone maybe a little sharper than he intended. “Do you actually miss me?”

“I do,” Joseph said. “You were my best friend once. I loved you.”

He flashed back to the one time Joseph had said it, how he had thought even then like Joseph hadn't truly loved him, how maybe he was just going through the motions to get something he wanted. He couldn’t help himself, the noise he made in the back of his throat, disgust, made Joseph look up at him. There was legitimate emotion in Joseph’s eyes. “You _loved_ me?” Robert asked. Horrified. How could Joseph even think that? Even think that love was anywhere near whatever they had been to each other once upon a time, especially after their last encounter. "Do you actually think that?"

“I do love you,” Joseph said, firmly.

“I can’t even tell if you’re lying or not,” Robert said. He wanted to shove him, hurt him in some way physically to counter what Joseph was saying to him. “What the _fuck?_  Joseph, what we had wasn't love. And what does it even matter if you did love me, if do love me? You’re never going to leave your wife.”

“I want to,” Joseph said, quickly. “I want to leave her.”

“Then do it,” Robert said. What a fucking joke. The only way Joseph was leaving Mary was if one of them was in a body bag. He could claim as much as he wanted that he was a cool Pastor but at the end of the day he was going to stick out this awful marriage that neither of them seemed to want to be in. “Put your money where your mouth is and actually fucking leave her. I think the both of you would be happier for it.”

“It’s not that easy,” Joseph said. “The kids-”

“Will be happier if their parents were happy,” Robert said, cutting him off. “Do you know how much it fucks kids up to see that their parents hate each other?” He knew that one from experience. As much as he hated Joseph sometimes, he didn’t want Joseph to become a bitter old man whose kids never called because they hated him. He knew how much Joseph loved them, felt that the only things in the world Joseph cared about were those children, it would just be a shame if they grew up to hate him. For both Joseph and the kids.

“I can’t,” Joseph said, and well, that was the usual answer. This argument was so old, so worn out that it could go into retirement if it wanted to. Robert was sick of having it.

“Then don’t tell me you love me,” Robert said. “Because you don’t and you never did.” He could feel Joseph’s eyes on him, and he wanted to turn and look at him but he knew that the moment he did it was all over. His resolve would crumble and whatever look was on Joseph's face would somehow end with them up in Robert’s bedroom, Joseph whispering sweet nothings into his skin. He lit another cigarette, took a long drag and stood up. “Good night, Joseph,” he said, after a minute, dropping the cigarette on the ground and putting it out with his boot.

“Good night,” Joseph said, quietly.

As much as he wanted to, Robert didn’t turn and look back at him. He walked into his house, staring straight ahead like Orpheus should have and closed the door behind him. He stood there, back against the door, holding him up. Waiting until the sound of Joseph standing up, the sound of his footsteps in the quiet street, the sound of his own front door closing, before he moved deeper into his house.

It was time to put all of this to rest, and as weak as he knew that he was, he knew he could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I had to call Crish something else because that's not even a name, and Matthew was a good enough name as any and I didn't want to go with Mark, Luke or John because they didn't sound proper enough. In a scene I couldn't manage to write, he's christened Matthew but somehow Joseph gets his way and everyone calls this baby Crish anyway. So, everyone loses.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this. I really liked writing it, and it pushed me in ways I needed as a writer so thank you for giving me this opportunity. 
> 
> Merry Yuletide. <3


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